


Like A Black Fly In Your Chardonnay

by plant_boi_potter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Chores, Draco is naive, Drarry, Ficlet, Implied Religious Background, Implied/Referenced Sex, Lily Evans Potter Lives, M/M, Narcissa is strict, Past Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Possibly Unrequited Love, Slight Homophoobia, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 08:08:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16719588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plant_boi_potter/pseuds/plant_boi_potter
Summary: Why is it always Potter?





	Like A Black Fly In Your Chardonnay

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of an original story I never finished, so I made it a fanwork for you guys instead!

"Draco!"   
He immediately stopped swinging his legs.   
It felt like he was ceasing to breathe. Whenever his parents confronted him, he felt an obligation to not do any more wrong than he already had. Although he wasn't a boy known for his wrongfulness, he had strict parents. This didn't bode well for anything he did, even when it was out of pure innocence. Mostly.  
A woman of about fifty years came into the dining room, from a hallway tucked off to the side of where Draco was sitting. She had her hair in a high ponytail, not a hair out of place. She looked stern as she stood in the doorway with crossed arms. It was as if she didn't want to breach any thresh-hold her son was in. Draco, however, was busying himself with the task of running through all the lists he had made in his mind. He'd done his chores, he hadn't been outside... there must have been something, (although it didn't come to his immediate attention), that he'd done wrong. She'd be in her study if he hadn't. He would have found out, regardless, but when dealing with his mother it was better to come prepared. It was as if he'd come into battle without any armour, and as of right now, he was under fire from the enemy.   
"Do you know what day it is today?"   
"Wednesday?"  
"And?" It was a prompt, he'd forgotten something. Nothing alluded to what. Which was typical.  
"I honestly can't remember mother. I am sorry"  
A 'you will be' was uttered, just about loud enough for him to hear. His breath caught in his throat. It was no doubt important. Or as important as 'family matters' were concerned anyway.   
"One of my friends is having a dinner party at Hibbons, a hotel by the theatre we went to three weeks ago?" She said it as a question. Although there was no need.  
She didn't need to coax him into remembrance of where they were three weeks ago. He knew about that, he was there. It was more of a bother to him that he didn't understand why there was suddenly going to be another social gathering of the elderly, to which he seemed to be invited to be their cocktail waitress. (It wasn't an unlikely outcome).  
"...Lily's son?" Draco only noticed that he'd had the time to zone out when he caught the tail end of his mother's ramblings.   
"Pardon?"  
Draco's mother sighed, seeming a little deflated when she had to repeat herself. "I said..." (Pause for another hefty sigh, just to make sure Draco had acknowledged it, she then continued). "You do know Harry, Lily's son?"   
And then the memories came flooding back. The wetness of his lips, the beating of his heart, the heat of his skin. The warmth of his traveling hands. His breath on Draco's skin. The closeness. As soon as it was there it was gone again, and Draco was in a cold house that was too big, that lacked love. Attention. The home of detachment, where closeness was deemed a sin, love, outrageous and homosexuality a downright shame brought onto the family, for anyone who graced the household with rainbows must be condemned by order of the Lord. "Shit". Draco whispered, his voice only just surpassing his lips. He would have loved to retain his thoughts for longer but that would be impossible with his mother at the doorway, still not past the doorknob, eyes boring into a slightly flushed Draco. "Yes." he said with the most neutral tone he could muster, his poker-face serving him well. "I remember Harry Potter".


End file.
